


quiet

by ingenious_spark



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Porn, Pure Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/pseuds/ingenious_spark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet moment after a truly awful day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a tumblr inbox fic for the lovely ladynorthstar, original version on tumblr. Have an (slightly) expanded version, sweetie!

It has been a ludicrously long and irritating day. Eames is notoriously laid-back, and even he thins this much, therefore it must have been truly wretched for others he could name. He lets himself into his hotel room on the third try, cursing keycards.

_(It’s only ever his_  own _room he has keycard-trouble with, strangely. Keycarded rooms where marks are staying? Easy.)_

There’s someone here already. Tension slips through his veins before he manages to recognize the quiet presence, and then melts away. He tosses the keycard and his jacket onto the bed and toes off his shoes, leaving himself in jeans and a black t-shirt.

Eames looks to where Arthur is standing, a slender silhouette in the hotel-room window. He is half-naked already, wearing a worn pair of jeans.

_(Eames loves those jeans on the other man, sitting sinfully over the cradle of his sharp hips just low enough to show a curve of shadow, tasteful and subtle. They cling to the curves of his arse and the long lines of his legs and it’s beautiful, how the worn-thin denim cradles him like a lover.)_

Eames walks up behind him, fully aware that Arthur is watching him approach from the dim reflection in the window. He insinuates himself behind Arthur and rests one broad hand on the small of the slender man’s back. He loves the shape and softness of it under his palm.

There - a tiny sigh, the barest flicker of relaxing tension. The man has had just as terrible a day as Eames has, and there is a lot of tension to relax. He slides his hand up Arthur’s spine until it rests on the back of his neck and Arthur let out a soft exhalation, relaxing back into Eames’ chest bonelessly. It charms him, how much power Arthur lets Eames have over him.

Eames chuckles and Arthur shudders, turning his head where it rests on Eames’ shoulder and shakily breathing in, one hand coming back to clutch the back of Eames’ neck. Eames smirks a little, shifting so that his arms are wrapped possessively around Arthur, one hand on his chest, fingers flicking over his nipples and the other resting low on Arthur’s belly. Arthur lets out a tiny sigh, going even more pliant, and then shifts his hips in an impatient movement. Eames takes that as permission to dip lower, undoing the other man’s fly and drawing him out into the cool air of the hotel room. Arthur shivers and curls further into Eames’ embrace, a tiny moan escaping.

_(Eames loves Arthur’s noises, how strangely quiet and pliable he is during sex. It makes Eames push harder, to make him fall apart, because he does it so very beautifully.)_

Eames turns his head and bites gently at the soft skin under Arthur’s chin, gently flicking his wrist and setting up a slow, maddening rhythm. Whenever Arthur tries to make him go faster, hips thrusting insistently, Eames stops entirely, drawing a soft, pathetic whine from Arthur’s throat.

The teasing rhythm continues, time melting away from importance, until Arthur is shaking in Eames’ gentle grip.

“Let me take care of you, darling.” He murmurs into Arthur’s ear, licking the outer shell. Arthur lets out a broken sob, before relaxing entirely, all his weight leaning into Eames as he lets the other man do as he pleases. Eames grins against his skin, finally picking up his pace until Arthur  _breaks_ , body stiffening like a live wire, a soft cry ripping from his throat and his hand clenching into Eames’ hair. He eases them to the ground when it becomes apparent that Arthur’s legs won’t support him. “Such a good lad,” he murmurs into Arthur’s ear. “ _My_  good lad.”


End file.
